The Perfume of the Lady With Red Hair
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: This story takes place sometimes around “The Seed of Cunning” episode and will elaborate on the events that took place between Barbara and Tommy at the time - missing scenes -- ON PERMANENT HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**The Inspector Lynley Mysteries**

**The Perfume of the Lady**** With Red Hair**

_Note: __Lynley, Havers and their sorts don't belong to me. _

_This takes place sometimes around __"The Seed of Cunning" episode. I always wondered when watching the episode why Lynley would appear so protective of Havers....  
_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**PROLOGUE**

_Just about everybody is watching us, that is great. I really need this right now__._

Following Lynley to his office, she dipped her head to avoid the scoffing gazes and gaped stubbornly at her feet. She raised her chin when Jamieson started to throw crude innuendos.

"Give him a snog, Barbara!" someone said.

"Lover's tiff, Barbara, go girl!" said another when she passed.

She silenced her troublesome obnoxious colleagues with an icy stare. _It can wait._ _You all know I'll be keeping scores_.

Lynley slammed the door behind him and turned to her.

"For heaven's sake, Havers, what's wrong with you?" he asked in a toneless voice. He started pacing in the cubicle, his brow furrowed into a deep angry crease.

She had heard that tone before. It was not bearing good news. He was after her and she had no clue why –once again. He had been behaving like a complete jerk for the last couple of days and it was really getting old.

"I bet you're going to tell me sir," she said, throwing her shoulder bag on the floor and slumping on the chair in front of his desk.

"Don't be the smart ass, Havers. I'm warning you, I won't tolerate…"

"You won't tolerate? What is it with you?" she said raising her voice. She could feel the stares of the detectives burning holes in her back through the thin office wall. "One moment, you're a perfect articulate and pleasant boss, and the next you're a complete pain in the ass." She went pale, realisation sinking in. "Sorry sir. I don't know what got into me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I swear."

"You're proving my point here Havers. That's exactly your problem. You say things, you do things and then you realise it is too late to get it back. I would like you to think twice before acting upon your feelings. You're a police officer, not an actor for crying out loud! Pull yourself together or I will have to ask for your transfer."

"Yes sir."

"And don't you yes-sir me Havers!"

"You won't tolerate it either?" she said, her mouth twitching.

He opened his mouth to reply sharply but changed his mind and went back to his desk instead, his eyes never meeting hers. He sat down and took the phone off the hook. "That will be all," he silenced her with a dismissing wave of hand and gave her a stern look.

She stood up instantly, retrieved her bag and went out in a flash, resisting the urge to slam the door as she left. A dozen heads turned away from her and the clatter of phones, printers and chairs resumed.

"Don't ask," she said vivaciously to Winston.

-o-

_please email me what you think and if it's worth to give a shot at writing the rest ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Inspector Lynley Mysteries**

**The Perfume of the Lady With Red Hair**

_Note: Lynley, Havers and their sorts don't belong to me. This takes place sometimes around "The Seed of Cunning" episode. Feedback appreciated ;)  
_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**CHAPTER 1**

3 WEEKS BEFORE…

As soon as she heard concern in Lynley's voice, she knew she had been an idiot to confide in him. He was stuck at his fancy dinner and did not need a scared partner to put extra pressure on him. It was no secret that his school pal Featherstonehaugh was more of a foe than an amicable figure in his life. To go to this dinner must be excruciating, especially with Lady Pipper being a friend of Helen's. She wished she could be there with him to hold his hand. It would have been the best of both worlds; she would not be alone in her apartment and he wouldn't be worried about her being alone and rely upon a true friend. It was a bit farfetched though. Probably she was only imagining he was THAT worried while he was just looking for an excuse to cut this social event short.

Not that he ever invited her to come along in the first place, she thought, though she would have had to turn down his offer. On a budget with her dating expenses drawing heavily on her savings, there was no way she could afford to buy some fancy clothes for a unique special evening --not to mention private tuition to learn how to behave properly and match his distinguished bearing, she scoffed.

"I'll be alright sir, don't worry. I'm pretty sure I'm imagining things. Yes, yes. No, you don't have to come over. I'll be perfectly fine. Enjoy your evening sir."

She hung up and turned back to the window. It was too dark outside for her to see anything so she switched off the table lamp and came closer to the pane. Her head pressed to the glass, she peered outside to search for any unusual moving shadows, to no avail.

After a while, she finally came back to her senses, put her parka on the next chair, took off her shoes and went to the bathroom. She will have a long warm shower. No date tonight, no pretenses. She undressed and let the water unwind her tense body. She could not be in any danger. Her place had not been ransacked, no one had attacked her. She was only under the vague impression she was being followed. If the ones who murdered Ramsey and his friend wanted her dead, she would be already. No need to get paranoid.

She draped herself in a fluffy towel and dried her hair. She was in need of a good haircut and a dye; her roots must be close to one inch long. She dragged on in front of her mirror, twitching her mouth, pinching her cheeks, tugging her hair and sighed. Under the crude light of the bathroom lamp, every line and imperfection stood out rather conspicuously, it was utterly depressing. She applied some cheap lotion on her face and neck and discovered she was hungry. She fixed herself a sandwich with some leftovers from a two days old takeout and dropped on the sofa in her flannel pyjamas and dressing gown. Mechanically she turned on the television and zapped through the channels until the soothing images of glaciers, arctic seas and icebergs drew her attention.

-o-

After the endless formal dinner, Lynley had to comply with the rule and follow the male assistance to the library. Pungent smell of cigars and expensive liquors bestowed an old fashioned atmosphere to the place. Fortunately, he was able to take his leave just before eleven along with two other guests.

He was sitting in his car, just a block away from Featherstonehaugh's and toying with the idea of ringing Christine Miller. He was no Spring chicken and noticed that she was very disappointed that he had called her for the case, and only for the case. Despite their casual flirting, he was mildly attracted to her. They only moved in the same circles, they probably have the same background and education. He was prone to admit that tonight he had missed Helen but all for the wrong reasons. He had not only missed having a woman at his side, but the companionship of a member of a rich, privileged, and fashionable social class. Havers was right. He was a member of an endangered species, a socially dominant community on the decline. He put back Christine's card in his wallet and started the car. He will pay a visit to Havers instead. It had been a couple of weeks now that he had sought help and guidance from her.

Riding to Acton, he mulled over the case. He could deal with any good old fashioned murder, the usual love triangle, passion, jealousy and greed. He was not fit for that industrial espionage nonsense and grand scheme politics. In fact, it was why he had basically chosen to join the Met instead of going to MI5, despite the fact that becoming an agent might have been his natural inclination from a more romantic view point. He turned left at Edgware Road and continued to follow A5 to Old Marylebone Road to Notting Hill.

He was realizing that it was actually more painful to investigate at the House for him than it will ever be for Havers. He was in no position to defend himself, the consensus being that it was a despicable ambition for a Lord to become a police officer, and the fact that he was very good at it making obviously the matter worse. To be honest, from Simon's condescending attitude to every doorkeeper's or clerk's blatant contempt, it was just one blow after another and there was not much more he was ready to take.

There was no traffic on account of the late hour and he arrived in no time. Turning at Western Avenue he left Friary Road on his right, slowed down and parked in front of Havers'. Locking carefully the car, he gave a quick look around but could not spot any surveillance team. The more he thought over Havers' concern, the more he was persuaded that it was a tail initiated by MI5. When such a large amount of money pertaining to government use is at stake, it is only logical that her Majesty's spooks are involved.

He crossed the street and his hand was reaching out to her doorbell when he heard a distant radio transmission. So he was right, MI5 was tailing her --and probably him as well. He checked his watch. It was past midnight. Retrieving his mobile from his coat pocket he speed-dialled Havers and moved away from the front of her building.

"… err, Havers." Her voice was coarse and unsteady; he recognized '_EastEnders_' opening credits, the Beeb was probably broadcasting a repeat.

"Barbara, it's Tommy… Lynley."

"Oh, sir, sorry, I must have dozed off in front of the telly. What time is it?"

"Midnight."

"How was your evening?"

"Not so bad I guess."

"Do you… do you need anything sir? Is everything alright?"

She sounded more alert. From the other side of the street he watched her front window and spotted fading lights as she went along in her apartment, turning them off and on.

"No, Havers, I'm good. I was just checking on you. Anything new I should be aware of?"

"Nope sir but I was thinking, what if it was special branch?"

"You mean MI5?"

"… or 6," she joked, "with missile prices ticking up, it could be money well spent to tail us. We're going to find that missing file, aren't we?"

"I hope so. Well Havers, if you want me to come over and check the perimeter I can be at your place in…"

"No sir, I'm good but thanks. I'll check for any peeping tom before going to bed and I promise you'll have my full report on your desk tomorrow morning."

"Don't forget we meet directly at the House," he said, hurrying back to his car. The last thing he needed was Havers finding out he was stalking her. He started the engine and headed back to Western Avenue. "See you tomorrow then. Good night Havers."

"Night sir."

-o-

"I can't believe it's actually fun to work so close to your lots," she said provocatively.

"Is it?" he smiled putting his hand on the small of her back to lead her in the right direction.

She glanced obliquely and grinned. Lynley was even better good looking than the first time they met and she simply loved the way his was sporting his hair at the moment. She always had a soft spot for longer hair and Lynley seemed very comfortable with this unorthodox hairdo. She could not help thinking that it would be great to actually take him upon his offer for a nightcap but she knew better. She had to make sure he called his wife first and sort out the mess he was into. Either he was still married and ready to make amends or he had to decide to get a divorce and move on with his life. She suspected that he was not the divorce type. It was going to be very painful when he'd come to realize his marriage was over and that he had to accept it. There was no way she was going to be in the thick of their private disagreement. Lynley had been her only beacon of hope lately and she did not want to put their friendship at risk. First of all, he should get in touch with Helen to inform her about Lady Pipper's involvement in their present investigation. She might not be his love interest and his wife per se any more but she was supposed to be his long-time friend. She gave him an uncertain look. It was not the best of times to speak up.

They went through a huge ornate entrance and she stopped to have a look at the incredible setting. "Seeing all of this, I have to tell you sir I'm surprised you could resist your call of duty," she grinned. "I could live with settling down here part time mollycoddled by a personal assistant, given free phone and surrounded by all this butlerish population of doorkeepers."

"I'm sure you would but surely you must know there's more to it… and why I did resist the siren songs?"

"I can tell, well, I guess," she smiled straying from her path to enter the next room when Lynley moved aside to let her pass. "No regrets?"

"On my part never but you ought to ask my mother about that."

He frowned and she kept silent for a while.

"So, what do you think? Now that your lady friend told you what to look for, we might try to actually find where to look."

"She's not my 'lady friend'," he said defensively, eliciting a surprised glance from his her, "she's a lawyer at Parker, Small and Hickey esq. who happened to work for the House and helped me with the case; and you're right, we should pay another visit to Mr. David Thompson, I would bet he knows more than he is telling."

"I bet that your old buddy the good lord whatever his name is pronounced knows a lot too."

"Or maybe he is covering for his wife…"

"… or lobbying for her, which means our favourite call-girl is out of the picture."

"Yes she should be."

"When are you going to tell her?"

"Who, Laetitia?"

"No, no… -Helen, for god's sake!" she said. How could she let the genie out of the bottle when she was so adamant against it? She bit her tongue, but kept going. "You've got to tell her about this case. If she's ever found accessory to…"

To her surprise, Lynley did not go berserk or mad or even annoyed. He merely smiled and gave her a gentle nudge.

"Havers, who's the one the fickle finger of fate has fallen on tonight?" he interrupted her.

"Sorry sir… I… I don't, what do you…"

"Who's the lucky guy?"

"Oh, err, you mean my date?" So he was listening after all or probably adjusting to a partner with a social life, her mock social life, she thought. "Thursday is it? Not tonight, but on Friday I'm supposed to meet someone for the third time at the Windmill."

"In Mayfair," he looked genuinely surprised. "Isn't it a bit… posh?"

"Nope, that would be a pub on Tabernacle street sir. You know the kind where they offer an average selection of beer and a pretty depressing smoking area. I've been there twice before. At least I know what to expect from the place," she confessed rather cheerfully.

"The fact of meeting a total stranger isn't it a bit depressing too, Havers?"

"Think of it as something purely therapeutic sir. See, you're supposed to pay to see a shrink and hope to get well or… better, well, I guess." She shrugged. "Here I pay to get blind dates and they pay for the drinks, and possibly my dates can be good looking or witty or both; and maybe I'll get lucky." _God, it sounded desperate_. "It's not a bad deal sir, what do you think?"

"I don't think anything Havers, as long as you don't throw pictures of your suitors in my face in public places."

"Roger that sir, loud and clear."

"So let's get to work Havers!"

-o-

And it had turned into a complete mess. Not only had they lost the seven missing pages but their main suspect was dead. He could not help but feeling guilty for Tim Sadler's death, even though nobody was holding him responsible. On top of everything else, Featherstonehaugh and his American friend had the easy job of making fun of his quixotic attitude. He was left with the bitter feeling of having chased his tail for a week. As far as everyone was concerned, the investigation was over and there was not much he could do about it, except to find out who were Sadler's killers and get even with Featherstonehaugh.

Fortunately, Havers was more cheerful than he'd ever seen her before, since her latest beau had turned out to be a potential match. He flipped the card on his desk. Christine Miller was a fine woman and he was reluctant to 'use' her for he knew it was too soon for him to contemplate a new relationship. He should muster the courage to call Helen instead --and stop to feel sorry for himself, he thought, pouring himself another glass of scotch. And stop drinking. He sighed and tried to regroup.

It was Friday night, the case was closed, he had a whole long weekend ahead of him and it was probably too late to ask Havers for a drink. He shook his head realizing that she was out on one of her blind date, anyway. In an ideal world, she would have wised up to the fact that he needed companionship and helped him with his failing marriage. That's what partners were for. He swallowed one last gulp and smiled. If he was lucky, he could have that drink with Havers at last and without having to ask her --again. He would simply surprise her at the Windmill. Hopefully, she would still be there and bored with her date.

Pondering his blood alcohol content was already high, he called a cab. No need to be charged with DUI. Half an hour later, he was sitting at the bar and nursing another scotch. His eyes skimmed the place. If he was not mistaken, Havers was facing him four tables away. He knew she would never believe his presence was the result of a coincidence. It would have to be her move. If she came to the bar to meet him, he did not intend to pretend he was not looking for her. It might not be very subtle, but he really needed to talk.

A tall brunette at the other end of the bar had obviously made her choice and was staring at him seductively. He turned his back to her and found himself facing Havers. She was wearing a revealing wide-necked green sweater which followed the line of her collarbone and her face was far more animated now that it had been when she had left the Met. She tilted her head and smiled tentatively.

"Please, help me sir," she said. She waved at the man at the table. "I saw you come in and I… -I, you…"

"What is it Barbara?"

"I've been to the loo several time already," she said in a low voice.

"Err… well, I'm not sure what I am supposed to do with this information," he said, his eyebrows rocketing.

"I was just pretending to be sick and hoping that he would let me go. But now he wants to drive me home."

"Oh, I see," he hesitated.

"I mean this guy is a complete moron and I can't find a way to get him out of my way." She was clenching her hands nervously, a fake grin displayed on her face and she looked worried.

"I thought you fancied him," he said gently leaning towards her.

She went red in the face and bit her lower lip. "I did, and let me assure you it was a big mistake." Her eyes went wide and distraught. "And now he wants to make a home run even though he didn't go to first base yet."

He froze in disbelief. He didn't want her to feed him all this information about her sex life or absence of it. "What do you want me to do? Challenge him to a duel?"

"Don't be an idiot," she cracked a smile. "I told him you were a friend and that we lost sight of each other."

"Am I happy to see you?"

"I guess," she said, glancing uncomfortably to her table. The man waved back at her. Lynley took her hands and kissed them. "What… what are you doing… sir?"

"You said we haven't seen each other in a while. It's appropriate that I demonstrate my happiness then, don't you think?" Letting go of her hands, he put his arm around her and hugged her. He felt her heart racing. "Is he looking at us?" he asked.

"Yes," she mumbled against his chest.

"You said I was an old flame?"

"Not in so many words. I was trying not to be specific. I was not sure you'd be supportive."

"Havers, you're my partner, you should know better. It is time to deliver the coup de grace, don't you think?" He smiled softly, cupped her head in his hands and kissed her lightly. She tensed and tried to move away. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Her lips parted in surprise and she felt his breath mixing with her own. "Is he the type to fly off the handle?" he whispered against her mouth. "I would not want to antagonize him by French kissing you in front of him."

"I… I don't know."

"He who dares, wins," he grinned, his face brushing hers. "Sorry Havers." He kissed her again, a real kiss this time, and she found herself responding more than willingly. At one point, she had to force herself not to toss her arms around his neck frantically like a teenager on a first date. By the time they stopped to get their breath back, her admirer was gone.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_so what do you think? shall I write more?_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Inspector Lynley Mysteries**

**The Perfume of the Lady ****with Red Hair**

_Note: Lynley, Havers and their sorts don't belong to me. This takes place sometimes around __"The Seed of Cunning" episode._

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**CHAPTER ****2**

He was holding her tight, enjoying the moment when revelation hit home. He was kissing Havers. He let go of her immediately. "Get a room!" someone called out at that precise moment. He switched from mortification to anger. He searched the dimmed light for the offender but unable to trace the source, he finally met Havers' eyes. She was staring and immediately looked away. _God, that was embarrassing_.

So much for sharing personal problems with a friend, he thought, doing his best not to gaze at her. His hand found the glass on the counter and he gulped the rest of his drink gesturing to the barman to get him another round. It has been a bad idea from the start. He should have called Christine; they would have had a few cocktails downtown, a last nightcap at her place or his and some meaningless comfort sex.

_Talk about __being randy, I'm all wound up, there's no way I can get around this situation and explain myself to Havers._

She probably wondered already why of all London pubs he chose this particular one, and her next move will be to question his ulterior motives. He had to say something right now, anything. He felt sick, on the verge of having a major meltdown. For someone who was supposed to hold his liquor, that was certainly a first. Assaulting a friend, a colleague, and in a pub no less? What possibly did he want to achieve? Make believe was all she ever asked for, it would have been so easy to play along. She requested his help without reservation, she trusted him. She did not deserve a public humiliation.

Lord Asherton downfall… Here he was again, a pathologically pathetic whiner complaining peevishly when his behaviour made him only a sorry excuse for a gentleman.

"He's gone," he said flatly trying to sound detached. It did not ring true even to his ears. "Havers…"

"I'll get my bag," she blushed bashfully, behaving in a very self-conscious way, "I'll be right back… sir."

"I'm not going anywhere," he mumbled. He felt numb. He had to calm down, defuse the situation, apologizing will never be enough, he thought. No need to beat about the bush, when he planned to make her boyfriend jealous he never intended to kiss her twice. He watched her retrieve her bag, parka and tepid beer from her table. She went back as quickly as she could, and flashed him a bright smile.

"At least he paid for the drink," she said, "I bet he ran as soon as he saw us smooching. And he's probably still running. I have to thank you for your very efficient way of getting rid of one annoying bugger, sir."

Now he was the one staring. When he was agonizing about a simple kiss, she simply decided on ignoring what just happened. Strangely, he did no feel relieved. It was odd this way she was having of not addressing the problem right away, so unlike her.

"If you'll excuse me sir, I will get going. It's past my bedtime," she joked. "I have to go and see my mum tomorrow. Have a good night sir."

Before he had time to react, he found himself alone at the bar facing bottles and mirrors. He did not like what he saw. He finished his drink and called a cab.

-o-

She hurried back to her car. She felt whacked. Befuddled, baffled, puzzled… and confused, to say the least. It's been the equivalent of the Berlin wall coming down -again. She had to pull herself together.

The last couple of hours had taken their toll on her. She was in great need of someone to talk to. The problem was that Lynley was usually her person of choice and due to the way they hooked up at the bar, it was no longer an option, at least not right now. She should not have run the way she did. At the end of the day, she will have to work with Lynley and face the problem.

What a mess, she thought; it was supposed to be such a fun evening to begin with. Not only was Russell good-looking, he seemed intelligent and articulate, a welcomed relief after a seemingly endless string of blind dates with self-centred imbeciles. Tonight, totally out of the blue, he put on his best macho act, a hundred percent certain that he was going to bed her and turned into an offensive stupid bastard. It was disparaging for her to blame his attitude on alcohol. His intoxication was a bad excuse and she knew it, she was not fooled by his attitude. She should not feel guilty of showing up late at the pub, either. He had some sort of draw on women, the sort that one couldn't understand, she should have known better. He had picked her out from his final selection, --"You're the last three in my personal line-up," he said. He had made no secret that he had yet to decide on who will win his affection in the end. If he was using the dating agency to increase the list of his conquests, her instinct told her that she should turn him down.

She was glad that Lynley could get rid of him so easily. Despite his bravado, Russell probably could not stand the competition – or he was not interested enough to fight for her. Now, her biggest problem was not that phoney Casanova, it was Lynley. She should never have told him she was trying to socialize in the first place. What was the matter with her? She didn't have to be so specific. Instead she had to brag, give all the details, because… actually she had absolutely no idea why, probably to boost her self-esteem, if she had any. They usually didn't discuss her private life, not as much as his anyway; when it came to discussing her life, it was all about her mum, her nursing home, or her mortgage, nothing personal really.

If he kissed her, it was on the spur of the moment, and she wanted to believe that it was merely a meaningless flash of inspiration. Well, she asked for it, the damsel in distress calling for help. It was not even a real kiss, his lips barely touched hers.

She stopped before her car and began to fetch her keys inside her bag. Probably he needed her for something related to work and did not want to call her on her mobile or disturb her on her date. On the other hand he had been depressed lately and certainly lonely. He could have asked her out for a drink. _Just because we're not sleeping together doesn't mean we can't hang out, be friends._ She bit her lip. He did ask her out, several times. She simply didn't wise up to the fact that he was calling for her company and a shoulder to cry on because she was so enthralled in her own dating scheme. She sighed and sat down in her car. Throwing her bag on the back seat, she stared absently at the street glistening from recent rain.

Why would he kiss her? He kissed her the second time, she did not imagine it. Was he drunk too? He did not seem drunk at the time. She had been smitten with her boss since week one but she had come to terms with her silly infatuation. He was way out of her league. Suffice to say that the show intended to put off her date was convincing enough since it ended into such a major lapse in judgment; probably nothing to get excited about, she pondered, except that she left. Lynley was only doing her a favour and she let him down. She contemplated going back to the pub and apologizing. She checked her watch. It was already past late but she had to get the whole story out of her chest.

She started her car and pulled away.

-o-

He was home and he was up. She had parked a block away from his place and walked to his house. From across the square, she could spot the lights in the living room and upstairs. Her hands deep inside her parka, she mulled over going directly to his place to confront him. She dialled his number and waited for an answer. His mobile was probably off but he will check his voice mail tomorrow morning before going to work.

"Havers?"

"You remember you gave me a rain check, sir? I know it's awfully late but I might take you up on your offer of a nightcap."

"Where are you? Are you ok?"

"We have to talk."

"I know. I was thinking about going to your place."

She laughed softly. "Great minds…" She walked rapidly to his house and trotted up the stairs her phone pressed to her ear. She could sense relief in his voice.

"Do you want me to come? I can be in Acton in less than twenty minutes."

"I'm at your door."

"What?"

She heard muffled footsteps and the door unlocked. She hung up the phone and grinned. "Sir it's quite chilly, you should cover yourself."

He stepped out in his skivvies and gave a good look around.

"Sorry Havers, I'm only hoping we lost our tails now that the case is closed," he said placing his hand on the small of her back, "come on in. I'll put the kettle on."

-o-

_Your feedback will be much appreciated__: it keeps the engine running ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

**The Inspector Lynley Mysteries**

**The Perfume of the Lady with Red Hair**

_Note: Lynley, Havers and their sorts don't belong to me. This takes place sometimes around __"The Seed of Cunning" episode._

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**CHAPTER ****3**

It was an awkward moment but it did not last long. He disappeared to the top of the stairs and to his room, leaving her alone. She was glad he did. Seeing him in his underwear, it was an experience she really did not need to add to the list after what just happened at the pub. Soon he was back to the kitchen, wearing jeans and a nice striped sweater. He did exactly what he had mentioned on the front door and put the kettle on. She was expecting it was only a figure of speech and that she might eventually get her hands on a glass of something a little stronger, but that was all she got. She cupped her hot mug, feeling the warmth unwinding her uneasiness and relaxed.

After all, he was still the same Lynley, and she was still Havers. Unfortunately, it was the problem, --who they were. She waited a few minutes for him to say something but he remained silent, absorbed in the contemplation of his tea. Some classical music was playing in the background and he was unknowingly beating the tempo with his left foot.

"Sir?"

"Sorry Havers, you were saying?"

"I was not saying anything but I was kind of hoping that you would. I don't want our partnership to dwindle down and end because of a stupid kiss. I mean, I'm really grateful for what you did and everything but…"

"Yes, you're right. I cannot even begin to express how much I'm sorry about what happened. I have not been myself lately. That's totally inexcusable."

"I forgive you," she chuckled. "I just want to make sure you're not mad at me."

"It was my idea; you only ask for help, how could I be mad?"

"Ok then. Now… can I have something more… well, -- you know?"

"Whisky? Tequila? Dry Martini?"

"Shaken, not stirred then," she giggled.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She woke up to the silence. It was something she was not used to in Acton. She stretched her arms and rubbed her eyes and enjoyed the peace and quiet. She checked her phone for time and set her naked foot on the thick carpet. After a quick glance to the sky outside the window, she directly went to the bathroom and after a nice hot shower proceeded downstairs in search of Lynley. There was a note on the kitchen table. _Make yourself at home. I had to go. Meet me at the Met_. She repressed a grin. The last part read like just the title of a bad pulp fiction. She took her time to fix herself some breakfast and she was sitting in front of the bow-window when it hit home. It was Saturday, the case was closed and there was no reason to go to work or to the Met on a Saturday morning. However, the note was explicit and direct.

She took her tea upstairs to brush her teeth and get her mobile. She rang him immediately. When he did not pick up, she left him a message on his voice mail. This was not her first time in Lynley's apartment –technically, it was her first time since he's been married to Helen though, but he usually did not leave her alone there to rush to 10 Broadway on a week-end. She was getting worried.

She let herself out and closed carefully the door behind her. She found her car right the corner and drove herself to her office. It was a walking distance but she had to go see her mother and she preferred to have her car handy after meeting with Lynley. She toyed with different scenarios which would involve her presence but none seemed relevant. She parked outside and hastened to the lift.

It could have been any other day at the Met. Most of her colleagues were busy and hardly noticed her presence until she answered her phone. Everyone was suddenly looking her way, glances and whispers were exchanged and she walked to Lynley's office under close scrutiny.

"Hello sir. What is it that was so urgent that you left me at your place without saying anything?" she asked.

Lynley sprang from his chair and silenced her with a warning look. He took her by the arm and gave a circular look outside from the doorway to the detective pool before closing the door behind her. He was pale and seemed furious. She was wondering if she had done anything wrong since they parted the night before after a few drinks and no ill feelings about their odd evening.

"Please," he said, gesturing her to the chair facing his desk, "you better be sitting. Webberly called me this morning to make sure I would be able to make some damage control."

She shrugged. "Damage control? Is it about the missiles sir? They want to know how we got the file and why we lost it?"

"I wish it had anything to do with the case Havers," he sighed. "I don't know how we're going to get out of this in one piece, it's probably going to be pretty bloody for the both of us, and I must apologize for this, because it is my fault, entirely."

"I don't understand sir."

"Well, you're aware that I am a public figure, and even if I'm not always in the limelight doesn't mean I'm not a juicy subject for the tabloids. Public interest focuses on trivial things Havers, you know that don't you?"

She nodded, unsure of the direction this conversation was going.

"Webberly called me to point to my attention some photographs published in a downmarket tabloid paper this morning and I'm afraid that the same photographs will soon be gracing the entire gutter press. Luckily, my name is not prominent enough to be tabloid material and we're not front page, but yet, people will talk and you'll have to brace yourself against nasty attacks in the near future. Sensational news are short-lived, and hopefully this will be all over tomorrow. Unless they pick up on something else pertaining to…," he hesitated, "… us and then we're on for a long unpleasant ride."

"You're aware that I have absolutely no idea what you're ranting about, aren't you?"

"Have a look. And we'll talk."

She took the newspaper from his desk and deciphered the title of the last column on page four. She went beet red instantly and her stomach decided that breakfast had been a very bad idea. Paralysed by anger and shame, she waited a moment to regain some composure and turned towards Lynley who was fidgeting with a crystal paperweight.

"It's not true! None of this is true how could they?" she protested. She slumped back down on the chair. "How could they?"

This was his turn to shrug. "That's only sexual titillation. Unusual sexual affairs feed that type of press. It's junk food news. That will go away very quickly. My lawyers are working already on the proper response."

"But about the photographs sir?"

"Probably phone pictures. Not very good. At least the ones in the pub."

"They're good enough, if you ask me. At least they seemed to be when if I can recall the look on about every face of the people working on the opposite side of this door sir! What about the ones where you're in your underwear letting me inside your place?"

"That's the price of being famous Havers."

"That's the price when you're actually famous. Last time I check, I was not. And what about Helen? You have to call her."

"If we are in luck she won't even know."

"I'm not supposed to put up with that," she grumbled as she stood up. "You better fix that and fast. And when you're finished, you'll have to make it up to me. There's no way I'm going to pay the price of being your Lordship's sidekick by being trashed in the tabloids."

With that, she stormed out of his office and outside the Met.

Lynley sighed, staring absently at the open door before him. It was going to be a very long week end.

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